Tag Archives: thankful

In Search of Gratitude

11 Friday Jan 2019

Posted by in bipolar, caregivers, hope, mental illness, schizophrenia, Uncategorized

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Last night I couldn’t sleep, but unlike most sleepless nights, I didn’t get out of bed. I decided to stay in the warmth of two layers of comforters and try to fall deep into the land of dreams. However, I didn’t. I started thinking about my gratitude practice.

Day after day, week after week and month after month, my list seemed to look familiar. I am always profoundly grateful for my husband, for his job, for the benefits of his job (healthcare), and for the care he takes in making sure our house runs smoothly, and I that I am okay. I am also grateful for things like our health (although not perfect), faith, joy.

Last night, I found myself asking, “What else are you thankful for?’ And my reply surprised me. I started listing things like the mattress topper that provides a layer of squishy softness that keeps my back and hips from hurting, the soft new flannel sheets we bought from Target, having a pillow cradle my head, the fact that we can sleep with our window open in January. I went on and on listing the things right around me that make my life what it is and provide me the level of comfort I am used to (so used to that I hardly see or notice it).

After going through dozens of things I am grateful for, I imagined myself in a room with one bowl, one spoon, one house dress, some rice, some beans, and a mat for a bed. I imagined if those were my only possessions, I would be deeply grateful and highly aware of each one. How much more is in my house, though? I have hundreds of books lining shelves and covering the tops of tables. I have Two televisions with Netflix and a Smartphone. The books alone open whole worlds for me, Netflix and the Smartphone connect me to almost every place on the planet.

All of this and I haven’t even given thanks or considered things like touch, hearing, sight, taste, smell. Almost giddy at this point, I say out loud to a dark room on a sleepless night, “Walking. Even though I have a significant limp, I love walking.”  And then I realized since April of 2018 I have practiced gratitude on a daily basis, and all these months later that daily practice just exploded inside of me like a jacaranda tree in full purple boom. I knew for certain that in 2019 I would need much less and probably feel much better.

Enough. Grateful. Thankful. Overflowing. The list never ends.

The sun is shining through my window, and I’m going on no sleep but the palm branches swaying in the breeze look beautiful and calming. Overhead there is a hawk circling and probably hunting. I’ve been hunting too, for radical gratitude, which seems to have captured me in the middle of the night unaware and unexpecting.

Realizing Your Value

15 Tuesday Mar 2016

Posted by in bipolar, hope, mental illness, relationships, schizophrenia, stigma, Uncategorized, writing

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I am grateful for my friends and the other people in my life. I think I am particularly grateful because I have schizophrenia. I have some internalized stigma (I’m working on it), and that causes me to feel overly grateful that people want to be a part of my life.

When I look at who I am as a person, and who the people in my life are, I realize they are lucky to have me in their lives, too. Just as all the people in my life have to overlook some of my symptoms, or deal with them, I have to overlook their quirks, habits, flaws and love them as they are. None of the people in my life are perfect. I have some friends who lean toward the negative. I have some friends who are terrible listeners. I have some friends with quirks and idiosyncrasies. I have some friends who have big egos, and I have friends on the opposite side who have self-esteem problems.

In other words, I have real people in my life, and I fit into that category, too.  There are no more “things” to deal with regarding a relationship with me than there are with other people.

I think this is important for people who have a mental illness to realize. Those of us with a mental illness have so many things happen over the course of our lives that can shatter our self-esteem and leave us thankful for anyone who sticks around. The extreme case of this is staying in an abusive relationship, and the less extreme is bending over backward for people (lending them money, always doing what they want, picking up the tab for social events, helping them out in any way that presents itself, etc.).

Maybe, everyone with a mental illness should make a list of their positive qualities and then list their symptoms and see how much more they have to offer than the problems that arise from their symptoms.

I want to continue to feel blessed and lucky to have so many amazing people who are a part of my life, but I don’t want to feel that gratitude just because I have schizophrenia. I want to be grateful because friendship and love are always a reason for celebration, not because I am bruised, flawed, imperfect and lucky to have anyone (no matter whom they are) to be around me.

My hope for all people with a mental illness is that they will recognize and begin to celebrate those things that make them unique and wonderful people – those things about us that mental illness doesn’t touch, or enhances in some of us (like empathy, compassion, possibly creativity, etc.). I want us all to know we are valuable and cherished people in other’s lives just like they are of value to ours.

So, we aren’t perfect. No one is so that just makes us human, like all the people in our lives. We all have obstacles to overcome, and that can make us more alike than different. We can share our struggles and help each other along – we can make our relationships equal instead of lopsided. We can admit that we need each other. We can recognize against all odds that we are of value and people benefit from having us in their lives.

About The Lottery

09 Saturday Jan 2016

Posted by in Uncategorized, writing

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Tonight’s lottery is 800 million dollars. My husband and I don’t play the lottery on a regular basis, but occasionally we will buy tickets so we can dream about what we would do with the money if we were to win. We have always said it is worth a buck or two just to talk about those dreams.

Yesterday was different, though. We bought four tickets, and when we started talking about it, we got a little scared. One of us asked, “Would we be the same people we are now if we won 800 million dollars?”

“No.” My husband said.

“What would we be like?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but we wouldn’t be the same,” he said.

“What if we started fighting and wanted a divorce?” I asked.

“I don’t think we would fight over money. We have never fought over money.” He said.

“What if we fought over other things like projects, or who to help out?” I asked.

“800 million is too much. Going forward, we are only going to play the lotteries with 1-8 million dollars as a prize.” He said.

I realized while we were talking that I already won the lottery. I have my health, and it isn’t perfect, but it is fairly decent. My husband has an autoimmune disease that seems to be stable (so he is relatively healthy). I have a wonderful husband. We have access to healthcare. We have a savings account. My husband has a job. We are both educated. There is always more than enough to eat. We have a warm condo in the winter and cool condo in the summer. We live with many freedoms. We laugh every single day. We rarely argue or even disagree. We have a good group of friends. I could go on and on.

If we won 800 million dollars, I don’t know if we would still be happy, or grateful, or if the issues that kind of money brought would quiet our daily laughter.

I still have the four tickets, but I don’t think winning that money would be the best thing that could happen to me. I love my life now. Winning enough money for my husband to retire would be a dream come true, but winning 800 million may decrease my joy instead of enhancing it. With that much money, you have to consider what you might lose instead of what you might win.

 

Thankfully, I Am Alive!

06 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by in hope, mental illness, schizophrenia

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I hate to admit it, but sometimes I feel sorry for myself.

On a day that I have a panic attack, or an episode of the mysterious fatigue that occasionally overwhelms me, along with a breast cancer scare (I have had two), or if we have to deal with termites, or a leak in the roof, I can start to feel down.

I ask the question out loud, “Isn’t schizophrenia enough? Do I have to deal with health issues and other stressors too?”

Then something happens like a gentle reminder from heaven, that actually, I’ve got it quite good. In fact, I have it better than good, I’ve got it great.

Yesterday, I went to the lab to have my blood checked. A side effect of the antipsychotics I am on is high cholesterol, high sugar, and damage to the liver and kidneys, so I need to get my blood checked at least every six months.

I arrived at the hospital early (the lab opens at 7:30 AM on Sundays).  There were already two people in front of me. The woman at the desk was having difficulty with her computer so people continued to come and a line of six or seven of us formed.

At first I just thought everyone was talkative, but then my husband and I quickly figured out that all of the people waiting in line knew each other. It turns out they get their blood drawn every Sunday, because all of them had kidney transplants.  One man had a kidney and pancreas transplant and was positive for HIV.

As we moved from the check-in line to the waiting room, we listened to these people talk. All of them were on thirty or more medications. They had to take some of their pills three hours before eating, some an hour after eating, some twelve hours apart.

They all talked about the person who donated their kidney so they could live. One man’s brother had donated his kidney, but everyone else had received a kidney from someone who had died. They talked about how that bothered them, and how they all wanted to have some form of communication with the families of the donor.

By the time my husband and I left that lab we were thanking God for our lives, our troubles, our ailments, our difficulties and struggles.

When we got home, I opened an inspirational book that my husband wrote for me and gave me for Christmas.  It said, “Your worst situation is still better than someone else’s best situation.”

Today, I am grateful. I am thankful. Even though all of the people at the lab had to go to the doctor regularly, take dozens of pills, watch their diets, etc. they were all happy to be alive.  I am happy to be alive. Life is beautiful, and I’m going to live it!